Glory and Gossip: The Tower of Vegas

["Vicious" Vince Vegas]

Triumph returns from break, just after GM Dow Jones has announced the revised competitors for The Tower of London match at Dawn of Destruction.There sits "Vicious" Vince Vegas sitting in a living room style chair, with several identical chairs sitting empty across from him on a cheaply made set that looks like a discarded showroom living room at IKEA. Elevator music plays as the title fills the screen.

Glory and Gossip
With "Vicious" Vince Vegas

Vegas stands on set wearing an expensive suit, holding a microphone and seemingly ready to begin his talk show host gimmick once again. Despite harsh criticism in the dressing room, and his contradictory nature in the ring, Vince continues with the talk show schtick.


Welcome ladies and gentlemen to Glory and Gossip, the most popular segment on Thursday Night Triumph. As always, I want to deal with the issues here is GHW wrestling, more specifically The Dawn of Destruction Tower of London Match. I would like to take this opportunity to have any one of the superstars involved in the match to join me here on the set.

Vince stops, takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm as he begins to speak again.

Jerry Nate, Since you brought the topic of evolution, it's obvious it's time some someone forced you to evolve. When I look at you, I notice your eyes are just a little bit too close together, your eyebrow ridges pertrude a little too far,
your hands and feet are just a little too hairy. Physical features aside Jerry, You're a self proclaimed "red-neck" from the corn-husker state, but speak of death and destruction in cryptic messages just like your predecessor. What happened to
the hard rocking, corn-husking, Good ol' Boy? Evolution is meant to move the species forward; become more capable; Change for the better, but you've reverted back to your comfort zone and that's a dangerous place to be. You don't know who I am
Just yet. You've only seen small seeds of what I am truly capable of. You've seen what I wanted you to see. But soon you're eyes will open, Jerry and you'll find out who I am. Soon you'll realize just what your dealing with."Vicious" Vince
Vegas is the future of the of GHW, the next step in the evolution of Glory and Honor. I stand a straighter, walk taller, look better and am a hell of a lot smarter. At Dawn of Destruction, you're the one that needs to evolve, before you get left behind.

Vince takes several deeps breaths in an attempt to regain his composure.


Next, I would like a sincerely congratulate Joshua Vandiver. The way you bitched and complained your way into the Tower of London match is truly impressive. Looks like alliance with Wolverina has taught you a thing or two. Congratulations for becoming next in line in to suffer at the hands of "Vicious" Vince Vegas. I was planning on saving you for later, but since you insist, I'll change my plans. I'd be lying if I told you I've ever made it all the way through one of your segments. They're just so long and drawn out, I find myself changing the channel just to get away from it. But I flicked back just in time a few weeks ago, just long enough to hear my name in your long winded mouth. That little bite you took of Vicious Vince is already more than you can chew.

Dec 10, 2012 14:15:02 GMT -5 Dustin Delta said:

Frankly it's hard to consider one

"Vicious" when he hosts a show called Glory and Gossip, refers to himself as "pretty", and most of his comebacks are gay jokes.

Frankly, I find it hard to believe that the pimply faced teenager from The Simpsons,rocking a Justin Beiber haircut has any place in a professional wrestling ring, real or imagined.

Vince begins pacing back and forth on he set as he continues ripping into his Tower of London opponents.


Jack Tracks. You're the only one in GHW that can actually say you've beat Vince Vegas, cleanly at that. That's quite an accomplishment, but even a deer sometimes out runs a wolf, even a mouse sometimes escapes the hawk. I took you too lightly, but I've learned from my mistakes, and, at Dawn of Destruction things will play out much differently. But the real question I have for you Jack is, Where have you been? All of those weeks of no contest's, no promo's, and, even when you did show for Blood Runs Cold, your match was half assed. When all those fans chanted your name, and you just didn't show?Where were you?

Finally, this brings me too the Logging Crew, the team Dow Jones has paired me with for the night. I have no doubt we'll be victorious in our efforts over the legion and the mysterious man named Kaos. Hell I've already beaten both of the legionnaires on my own. But I have something very special planned for Cletus and Big Jim before the match tonight, a celebration of your time together, before the seed is planted that one of you may not be as trustworthy as he seems.


Just as Vince is preparing to rip into the logging crew, he is interrupted.

TBCB: Any tower of London competitor.

[Psychotic Circus]

-Little Ol' Vincent wasn't paying attention as his mouth ran a mile a minute. The lights had already began to fade at their Master's will. The red fog was rolling in from underneath the coffee table in front of Vincent. The fool began to breath it in while the area filled up with hooded bodies running through the set.-

"...The hell? Oh-!"

-The Viscous One's words were cut off in an instant as the lights went out with a sudden burst of shattering glass. A swarm of bodies were seen moving through the shadows while camera men called out for help, but soon the sounds of liquid splashing the floor was heard. The obvious warning of a pirated segment from the Dark Side.-

"Hey dere, Vinny! Da' Boss wan-sTA have a werd which cha'..."

-The familiar voice rang out, shocking the fans into an uproar at the arrival of the former GM of TNT. Scuffling was still heard for a few moments before a set of lights were brought in by some shambling bodies to give sight to this glorious moment. Vincent was tied to a steel folding chair and gagged with what was probably his own My Little Pony underwear. Now sitting in Vincent's spot was Grimey C. Whiskey, the Pink Pimp himself and personal Lawyer/Accountant/Dealer of the Circus. His usual hard as steel hair-do and darkened eyes glaring bullets at Vince. And of course there was Jerry Nate, sitting at the other end of Vincent. The Los Vegas native looked around with fearful eyes at the new set of people off screen controlling the cameras before Grimey spoke up. -

"Ladies und' Gentle Fuckas'. Welcome to da' newly highjacked Glory und'...Gods und' Heretics talk show. Wich' yo' host. Grimey C. Whiskey. TOO-Night, Vinny Vegas will be cut like da' bitch he is, und' sacrificed to A-pees da' Boss. But first, a quick Q und' EY'."


-Jerry's Nate's barely moved, his eyes concentrated on Vince in front of him. A smile spreading over his face as Grimey lifted up a clipboard and looked over the pre-written questions.-

"First quest-tion. Vinny, do yous' thinks ya gunna make it to da tower?"

"UMF! UUUUMMMMMF!"

"...Very informA-tive. Jurry, yer re-buttelz?"

-Jerry reached up underneath his baseball cap and flicked open a straight edge razor he was holding behind his ear. The gleam of the extremely sharp razor shined off his sunglasses.-

"I disagree with Vince on that point, Grimey. I don't think this little piggy has more than twenty minutes left on this planet."

"Welps, looks like you twos' cantz agree on a damn thing. Butz I digress...Jurry, this one is justz fer' youz. What are yer planz for after da' tower?"

"...Destruction. I'm gonna press the button and drop mushroom clouds on all of the fuckers that are still stupid enough to be here...I'll do what Jaggeroth didn't and finish the damn job!"

"Holdz on dere' a secund, SUCK-O. Da' Boss says ya'z gotta save da' Lamb fer him!"

"Screw that, GRIMEY! Why should I save Haven for him!? He told me to spill blood, and lots of it! Who knows even when he'll come back! Why should I wait? This is my time, he gave me the book for a damn reason and said go wild!"

"Ess-cuze my friend here, dabbles in da' dark artz and all ofz a sudden he's thinks he's da' nextz Crowley. Rememba' ya' place...Vinny, da' next question is for chu'...Doez ya' have yer' affairz in or-DA before wez leaves ya' body in a truck stopz bathtubz?"

-Vince could only reply with "UUUUMMMMFFF!" as he tried kicking underneath the straps that held him in his chair. Jerry hissed as he slid the blade down his tongue, leaving a river of blood to flow down his lip.-

"I think he said yes. Grimey, are you about done?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go wildz, Killa'"

-Grimey reached down and pulled up a boom box before he hit play.-



-The Shotgun Kid got up with a swift kick to the coffee table to send it flying off screen. Hips began to grind as Jerry Nate boogey'd down, getting closer to Vince with razor blade in hand, waiving the cutting device in the air while Vince struggled with everything he had, spitting out the undies in his mouth.-

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP! YOU'RE SICK, JERRY! YOU HEAR ME! SICK SICK SICK!"

"Shhhh, Shhhh. Vincent. Come on, die like a man..."

-The blade slid across his forehead, opening Vince up with a deep gash while Jerry got down, pointing the blade at Vince's noise with knee gyrations and slicing open the Viscous One's sniffer. Cries of agony and mercy screamed down the seemingly empty halls as Vince's public execution was airing live on prime time television. He could feel his own blood flow from his head as the slices came down over his lips, inching towards his neck before a glass of cold water splashed over his face, snapping him back to reality.-

"..wha..WHAT!? JERRY NATE!"

"...what?"

-Grimey C. Whiskey and Jerry Nate were across from Vince as he was freaking out, the interview area was intact and Vegas was sitting in his own seat rubbing his face, not a trace of blood or assault was smeared across its wet surface. Jerry seemed to just be waking up himself in his chair while Grimey was wrapping up a thick book back into a leather case.-

"...I think you were trying to ask me a question, but you seemed to have fallen asleep. How was your nightmare?"

-Jerry leaned back in his chair and crossed a leg with his cheek leaning into his fist.-

"Do we need to discuss anything else? Or are you ready to bow down to my power?"

"Da' Circus-ez POW-A...."

"...whatever."

TBCB: Anyone else involved in the ToL or Vincent.

[Dustin Delta]

Vincent, concerned for his own well-being, ensures that he's lost no blood, that he's awake, conscious, and most importantly, alive. His complexion, being pale and deathly, is one of a man who must have seen a ghost. Vegas will still visibly uneasy as a rigid hand wrapped itself around the back of his neck. Startled, the upstart turns and the camera pans out to reveal that standing there is none other than Joshua Vandiver himself, the man who performed previously under the alias "Dustin Delta". Joshua's eyes are dead set into those hollow pupils of Vince, who seems to seeth with anger in Vandiver's presence.

"Big words for such a little boy, eh, Vicious?"

Joshua steps away from Vince, making it a point to walk directly through Jerry Nate's line of sight. The Shotgun Kid looks to the former Deathmatch Champion with a sickly expression, to which Vandiver silently replies with a grin and a pat on the shoulder. The Valhalla native steps quietly to a couch on the set, and conducting himself with surprising civility, takes a seat. His eyes constantly stir between the current Champion and the rising star, but finally set themselves to the host of this insufferable show as he begins to speak.

"Vince, it leaves me dazed and confused every time I'm reminded that you're on the card at Dawn of Destruction, much less in this match. From what I've seen, you're the complete antithesis to what any sensible promoter would want in his company. First, you're an untalented twit. You're repertoire of maneuvers is dreadfully average. You bring nothing new to the table. I've seen guys like you thousands of times, and you're certainly not a special case. Second, my contempt towards you moves beyond the ring, but to the sheer imbecilic actions and statements you make every week on this TV show. You stand in that ring out there, or back here on your cheap Raymour and Flanagan's set and try to call out talent like Jerry Nate or I. And while Jerry Nate and I are very different, we do share a few qualities, such as actual skill and resiliency. Nate and I have gone through ordeals that children like you wet their beds dreaming of. Vince, you wouldn't know how to survive a deathmatch if somebody read you a manual. What makes you think that you can hang with us in the Tower is beyond me."

"Allow me to teach a history lesson, Vince. One year ago, Glory and Honor Wrestling held the first Tower of London match in history. Vegas, I won that match. By winning that night, I became the second person in Glory and Honor Wrestling's history to win the King of the Deathmatch Championship more than once, and I went to hold it longer than most superstars could even wish to in their best year. Interestingly enough, only three men in this years Tower stepped into it previously. Jack Tracks, Jerry Nate, and I, and last year, I beat both of them in that match. I am the only man, Vince, to ever win this match and I intend that statistic to be kept the same by the end of this year's pay-per-view."

"There's not a fiber of your being that is Vicious. As a matter of fact, the only thing Vicious after Dawn of Destruction will be the surgery needed to prepare that pretty-boy face of yours."

Vandiver's cocky grin has vanished, and now the lines that time drew set in as he stares down the talk show host in all seriousness, flipping his microphone again and again. Methodically tossing it up into the air, letting it turn, and snapping his fingers around it's handle again. The cold blue of his eyes sway over towards Nate, standing side-by-side with the unsettling Grimey O'Whiskey. The Floridian Falcon continues as Jerry solemnly returns to impassive glare.

"Jerry, your Psychotic Circus may be a cute act, and you may try to drag me to hell or wherever your kind calls home, but it's in vain. Jerry, you can do your work for whatever Pagan god or sadistic saint you praise, but it will do nothing. Sell your soul, Jerry, have a god damned flea market. It won't intimidate me, it won't stop me and it will not prevent me from taking back what's mine. A wise man once preached, and said that the greatest thing the devil ever did was make us believe he didn't exist. Jerry, it worked. Because I don't believe in your empty wishes of anguish and in the incarnate you serve. If anybody here, Jerry, is a body of power, it's me. The Tower of London is my hell that you're entering, and I'll damn you from it like I did Vladimir Tepes Strife from the world. Jerry, you can line up your shotguns, you can play with your smoke machines, and you can cry cryptica all you want. But Nate, I know that you're not Jaggeroth, much less his right hand man. All you are, Jerry, is a man. And what's a man to a king?"

"You like to quote wise men, you fictive fool? Well then, what's a king to a god?"

The allusion to the higher power that Nate may serve or work with creates a tense air on the set of Glory and Gossip. Vince Vegas takes a step back as Joshua Vandiver brings himself to his fullest verticality, brings himself face-to-face, nose-to-nose, with The Shotgun Kid.

"What's a god to a non-believer, Jerry?"

The infamously suave grin of Joshua Vandiver returns as he lay his microphone down on a table upon the set and takes several steps towards the rear of the taping area, sitting himself back on the black pleather couch, watching and waiting for Vince or Jerry to speak.

(TBCB Jerry, Vince, or any other ToL combatant.)

[Psychotic Circus]

-The Shotgun Satanist was tapping his fingers together, eyes slit while pondering Josh's words. Grimey was holding the leather encased book close to him before pointing over at Vandiver.-

"'EH! Da' Circus is fer realz, man!"

-A pausing gesture was raised up by Jerry Nate, silencing Grimey while he corrected his posture with daggers still flying from his orbs at the Vallhallan wannabe.-

"That'll do, Grimey. I can handle the un-believers by myself..."

-A gruff sneer came from the Pink Pimp, the tooth pick between his cracked teeth was plucked from his mouth and thrown over the floor.-

"Vandiver, you seem to have lost the faith, my son. I do believe there was a time, not to long ago, nay, a little over a year ago that you and I were joined together in battle under the Father's banner. You fought with me on top of that cage against the troops of the F.B.I, while Father destroyed the real Satan. You believed in us then, enough to help the cause. Why don't you believe in our power now?"

"Ok, can I get a word in edge wise here?"

-Jerry Nate turned, snapping at the false Death King with a snap of his fingers with bared teeth.-

"I can make your nightmares a reality right here if you interrupt me one more time, you waxed up pleb!"

-The "Vicious" One reeled back against his gawdy chair of fake leather, his eyes looking away from the real Alpha Male in this situation. Jerry eyed the false King for a few seconds before turning back over to Vandiver.-

"I'll tell you why you don't believe anymore, it's because of a stupid Harlot. You gain nothing from her except another voice to cry off into the night in stereo with. Father always had to fight tooth and nail for everything he got, just like I had too. Nothing was ever just handed to us because we moaned and groaned out, we forced ourselves to evolve, to become the harbingers of the new world, not sitting behind a microphone spouting off under the banner of false entitlement. You think you honestly deserve to be in that tower? No. You think you honestly deserve to say you beat the God King? No. Father and I both went into battle against Vlad while he was in his prime, ready, and prepared to throw down. Your victory is on paper, and it means nothing more. It can be burned down and thrown away all the same, Boy. It means nothing to the other side, your soul will not burn brighter in the astral plains when your time comes to journey them. You'll be eaten up, your essence taken by those who can see without seeing. That is...unless you remember where your allegiances are, and accept your fate as nothing more than a catalyst for the new dawn...There will be no other substitute, no strings left loose. No...false...Kings..."

-Jerry turned, looking down on Vincent's fake KotDM title with twitching eye. His face turned sour as the coffee table jumped a few inches up by itself, landing crooked from the furniture before the false title's face plate gleamed a hot white, the leather catching fire.-

"You doubt my power because you simply won't believe in it, but you forget, no one believed in Father either. Just as a man won't believe in a cruel god, yet is still struck by lightning, I, as the new God, don't need your belief to fuel my catastrophic wrath."

-Vincent jumped, his feet over the seat of the chair as he tried to stay away from the ever growing fire of his former fake glory, and making sure the wax over his head didn't catch on fire as well. Josh looked on at the unnatural scene, though unmoving as the flames shinned off his retinas, his mind racing to find a reasonable explanation for this.-

"I don't deal in cheap parlor tricks. I proudly walk through the magik' and the teachings that only a true wise man can bestow upon the unwashed masses. You have nothing on me, and will be left to rot as nothing more than a spirit of ill fortune. Crying out for every little bit of attention, but no one will hear you scream...."

TBCB: Whoever.

["Vicious" Vince Vegas]

Vegas stood confused throughout the segment, trying to figure out how, exactly, The Psychotic Circus coaxed him to sleep, causing him to have a nightmare which was somehow broadcast on on Glory and Gossip. Although present throughout Joshua Vandiver's segment, and Jerry's psychotic response, his mind was elsewhere. Could The Psychotic Circus be for real? Throughout the remainder of the show, he had been constantly checking his head for blood. It all seemed so real.

Normally the allusions of other superstars referring to themselves God's, King's and Devil's would add fuel to Vince's inner fire to puff out his chest and join into the verbal pissing contest taking place on his set. But the only fire on Vince's mind is the bright orange flame devouring his title. As the black leather bubbles, and the gold begins to char, Vince comes out from behind the chair, falls to his knees and watches helplessly as the fake KOTDM title slowly degrades into ashes before his eyes.


My Belt! No! No! No! I need that belt! It's mine! I earned it!

In Gollum-like fashion and just short of calling it "My Precious", those were the only words Vince could muster.Although Vince had purchased the title, and not truly won it, the leather strap he carried around symbolized to Vince that he belonged in the upper echelon of GHW with the likes of Vandiver and Jerry Nate. Vince,along with fans and other superstars backstage, had truly felt he had bested Nate in their brutal bar brawl at Blood Runs Cold, and crowning himself champion validated his need to be recognized. It gave him the attention he so desperately seeked, but as the leather boiled on the floor of his set, reality came crashing down, hitting him like a pile of bricks. No longer can he parade around claiming to be champ. No longer can he kiss his title.

As Vandiver and Nate stand, staring each other in the eyes, swelling up their chests in each others direction, disregarding the normally calculating heel on his knees in shambles beside them, the history of bad blood and tension between the two seem just about ready to explode, which would viewers a free preview of Dawn of Destruction. But just as the two seem ready to come to blows, the smoke from the fire causes the in house sprinkler system to begins spouting water throughout the set. Water drips down the faces of both Jerry and Joshua, their hair and clothes soaked, but, neither man wanting to be the first to break the gaze, they continue to stare without flinching. The Camera focuses in on a drenched Vince Vegas, still kneeing beside his fake KOTDM title, which has now been reduced to charred metal and ashes. The embers of the fire, being doused by the sprinkler system, produces a small cloud of black smoke. As the smoke rises, Vince's eyes glaze, a vein in his forehead begins budge out and throb, and he grits his teeth together as he boils over as it sets in that his title is gone. The smoke billows up around Vince as if it was steamed produced from his anger.

Looks like there is only one KOTDM title now, and Vince will have to go through Jerry Nate, Joshua Vandiver, Jack Tracks, Cletus and Big Jim in the Tower of London match to get his hands on it. A daunting task.

EOT